days 3 to 16 – sorry

Still no photos (why do my photos on google photos in my phone not appear on my laptop?)

Day 3 highlights Nehelam bay to Merriman state park site 334

Music to start the day Marvin Gaye Gold (What’s going on…)

Well not much distance covered – a leisurely start to the day with a nice warm shower (law of travel if there is a bathroom use it, law of camping if there is a shower use it – you never know when/where the next one will be)

Yet again, you find me sitting in my van with rain and wind beating down.  Terrible wind again this afternoon (this morning was fine, cloudy but relatively calm, nice walk in campground and to the beach – awesome fine sand with not a trace of man or animal tracks and crashing waves – stops at Bayview for breakfast (had an energy bar and an apple at the campground) 2 fresh shucked oysters and then an ice cream cone at Tillamook cheese (truly Willy Wonka for cheese – it is the first thing that came to my mind when I saw the huge! rooms and conveyor belts galore – I said as much to a staff person and she said nobody had ever said that, she really liked it, would tell management, usually people say it is the Disneyland of cheese (never having been to Disneyland I am ill suited to judge but …really? There are no rides, no artifice, just mammoth production of cheese and conveyor belts conveying cheese and sundry.  A bite of bread and cold chicken mid afternoon but tonight – oh tonight – the best, I kid you not – fish pasta ever.  It is not thanks to me but thanks to the ultra fresh sablefish and steamer clams from Bayview Oregon.  First cook your pasta till just under cooked (less then al dente) then strain your pasta but leave some of the pasta water clinging to it – it is good starch – In the same pot you cooked your pasta in (I am camping after all) put a slug of olive oil (there is a bit of pasta water left – that is ok – cook quickly on one side 1/4 pound of sablefish from the thick part, cut in 3, turn over and add a slug of white wine, two handfuls of steamer clams, and a tablespoon of homemade tomato salsa (mine is house made from Countryaire in Port Angeles).  Not too much salsa, actually less than a tablespoon, you do not want anything to overpower your fish.  Put your pasta on top to keep it hot in the steam, cook a few minutes, and only a few minutes and put into bowl (bowl is necessary the pasta will soak some of the broth as you eat the fish.  Oh the fish, the sablefish was, as it should be, buttery smooth, just barely cooked and flaky, and the tangy briny flavor of the clams to contrast, then the pasta and finish by spooning any liquid left over –  a genius meal!  And tomorrow, I bought a small container of shucked oysters, I will poach them briefly in their liquid and some more of that salsa, can be a bit more this time as the oysters can handle it, with some French bread I have left over that I will grill on my stove.  It is raining, I am tired of it but at this moment all is well. The way to this woman’s heart, particularly if the weather is lousy, is through her stomach

 Day 4 highlights  … Merriman to Harris Beach State Park  (near Brookings), site A25

Music to start the day: Lionel Ritchie.  What’s going on…. (his Hello song is great)

Là je me sens en vacances!

Yesterday before falling asleep I made a deal with myself that if the day was rainy and windy again I would head inland. Lo and behold I greeted a sunny and warm day today.  Put away the coat and sweater (and should have worn sandals – went to 18 degrees today!) So I am now at the end of the Oregon coast at Harris Beach state park (thank you Jenny and Patrick).  Another day of under 300 km – on my way back from Québec last fall I had a few days of over 600 km and most were around 500 and some. But what a difference a sunny day makes! The pounding surf is different in the sun, no longer ominous but mesmerizing. It was a beautiful drive.  Not many birds though but I did not stop at many of the birding hotspots – to date they would likely be the same species as BC.

 It is the first time since I have had Selva that I am sitting with my side door wide open (thank you for the sliding screen – it does give a semblance of privacy, plus protect against bugs (have been seeing mosquitoes since yesterday) and my back side window is also wide open (it opens out and has a screen that I can pull down.  I will sleep with the window open and sleep to the sounds of the surf.

The oysters poached in their liquid with butter and bit of Salsa was terrific. Another great super.

A few hints for the way:

Very good sourdough bread from: Winchester Bay

Great view of the coast at : Reedsport

After Harris Beach State Park it was the Redwoods (Day 5, to Redcrest, start with Petula Clark 2013 album Lost in You).  I felt like home (Vancouver Island) yet there is something sentinel-like about the redwoods.  Probably as the lower trunk is usually bare and they stand so tall and straight with quite contained greenery.

 I started to do some serious mileage as the weather was still foul.  So one day of 600km and another of 677km. Actually I do not find it hard.  I find drivers are in general quite courteous.  (they don’t ride on your butt) so :

Day 6, Redcrest to Santa Nella RV Park,site 46, 600km through fields of almond trees, dessert, some Joshua trees.  When you see the sign for Murray family farms stop for oranges and other good things.  The oranges were so juicy I had to eat them outside bending over to let the juice dribble down.  You might think there will plenty of farm stands but that is the only one I saw, so don’t miss it. (near Bakersfield)

Day 7 Sante Nella to Sam’s Family RV resort at Desert Hot Springs in site number 295, same as with Don in 2011, but this time rain and wind – in the desert – for me. 677km but I wanted to get here.

Day 8 very short day (92 km)/, Desert Hot Springs to Salton Sea, where I stayed for 3 nights (site 158 and then 136). Beautiful and nearly too hot and sunny!  Road mostly straight but up and down like a ribbon unfurling.  Nearly gives me seasickness!

Fever – sore throat coughing all night which is a shame since I was in, another, beautiful spot.  The Salton sea is an IBA (that means Important Birding Area, we have some of those as well) There is a state park along the eastern shore that has 4 campsites, 2 primitive and 2 with a mix of sull service and no service sites.  They are all along the water.  I chose Mecca, because it has some beautiful sites along the beach but also some trees and bushes which you do not have at the primitive sites.  It also has showers, albeit they are solar ‘heated’ and outside for all intents and purposes.

Nobody here and in summer it must be terrible, I believe the hottest place in the US I read somewhere.  Why do people not travel at this time of year is beyond me. Well that is fine with me.  It went up to 30 degrees today a bit too hot but it cools up fast.

Spent a day at the Sono Bono Salton Sea Wildlife refuge.  I will state her that the last few days have been somewhat of a pilgrimage.  I had recognized roads, landscapes and picnic spots visited with Don 5 years ago but had not synchronized to be able to stay at the same campsites.  That was remedied at Sam’s Family  RV Park in Desert Hot Springs.  Last time we had seen gambel’s quails, roadrunner, green heron etc this time, arriving after the aforementioned 677 km I asked and received the same camping spot.  You guessed it, in a section of the part where only 2 campers were occupying an area with at least 25 or so sites, but being the desert I had an unexpected surprise…rain! And cold! The next morning, I had a soak in the Hotsprings and a leisurely departure for the Salton Sea.  I stopped at the same organic date farm and bought a few goodies and had a date and bacon burger, yum, but could not eat all of it.  I have a photo of Don at the same place….

So Don and I had spent the day at the Sono Bono site and saw many great birds.  I saw 30 species on my walk there today but missing some of the species form last time (no Skimmers alas) I did surprise myself in remembering a number of birds that are not present in my home turf.  I think I am becoming a pretty good birder (nota: a birdwatcher is someone who will look at and notice birds around him or her and will generally be able to identify them, owns a bird book, a birder is one who actively seeks birds and makes an effort to find unusual, rare species and will go out of his or her way to do that.  I think that is the nuance.

My solar panels ensure charging for my phone, hot water, cold fridge, light galore etc..  No need for access to RV services

How to tell when your towels are dry in the dessert? When the flies stop flocking to it (at one point about 20 flies on it)

A lot of the countryside is reminiscent to many in Canadian provinces.  I drove through countryside that resembled the Okanagan, the Southern Prairies, the Badlands… except the flora and fauna are different.  Desert, sand, cacti, bromeliads, palms

Day 11 Salton Sea to Picacho peaks,  525 km and the day seemed very long, site B-9. Camping full – spring break.

Day 12 and 13, stayed in Tuscon at Susan’s.  Spent a day at a book fair. Of course, bought many books.  It was nice to see friendly faces and talk with Susan and other friends that were staying with her.  Got allergy meds – they help a lot – I did not have a cold but am here during height of allergy season it seems.

Day 14:  Tuscon to Patagonia Lake state park first day at site 5 (where I had stayed with Don) and 2 other nights at site 66 (163km)

Le 13 mars, 2016, 3 ans après le décès de mon conjoint. Ce fut une journée pour le moindre irréelle, toute la journée il me semblait que les choses allaient à l’envers.  C’est vrai que j’ai dû prendre un antihistaminique pour les allergies qui ont commencé il y a 1 semaines et je n’avais pas pris de café le matin.  Je suis arrivé à ma première destination, l’église de San Xavier Del Bac à peine 10 minutes avant la messe de 8 :00. J’y ai assisté.  Ce que j’aurais cru être une messe d’inspiration latino ou autochtone (l’église est au milieu d’une réserve) était en fait une messe on ne peut plus américaine, avec le curé, assez âgé qui faisait une lecture très libre de l’évangile, c’était l’évangile de Jean de la ‘femme adultère’.   La musique était de la guitare avec les chants des églises des années 80 (qui tentait être cool, je m’en souviens j’y étais et j’y chantais) Mais l’église est d’une telle beauté, dans les couleurs vivent que me rappelait le rouge et le vert de la cathédral St-Steven de Budapest.  J’ai, bien entendu, allumé 2 chandelles.  Et j’ai resté aux alentour quelques temps à examiner les lieux et les gens qui défilait devant le sein, et semblait le border de son linceul, c’est-à-dire il flattait sa tête, lui relevait la tête et plaçait son oreiller ou tirait la couverture pour bien le couvrir. Je me suis contenté de le flatter. J’ai acheté une dernière chandelle ‘for the road’.

Après avoir mangé un des ‘indian tacos’ vendu sur place par bon nombre de famille je quitte pour Patagonia Lake mais avant des épiceries ou je passais mon temps à perdre mon chariot – j’étais dans les limbes je crois, et ensuite une visite à Tubac ou j’ai retrouvé un bon magasin de cuisine et vue trop tard, en quittant le bon magasin d’huile et vinaigre ou on était arrêté.

J’étais très fatigué toute la journée et je me suis endormi avec ma porte ouverte (moustiquaire fermé) et la radio à au poste de musique classique.  Nuit étoilés superbes.

Day 15 and 16

Le monde qui se promène comme s’ils quitte pour une excursion dans les andes.  Hier matin pour la marche d’oiseaux guidé de 8h00, une 30 d’explorateurs avec leurs bottines de marche, leur polar, certains en gant et tuque, les autres avec leur casquette anti soleil (cachons nous le cou etc).  Mais tous avec leurs petits sacs attachés à leurs reins, leur immenses caméras, lunette d’approche, tissus anti rayon uv etc.  Moi je n’avais même pas mis mes bottines de marche, ma seule concession était mes sandales archi-laides que je réserve pour des telles occasions : une marche lente dans le bois (le seul genre de marche possible pour ceux qui observent les oiseaux).  Pas questions de me camouflé en ‘bird nerd’ suffit de mettre des vêtements confortables qui protégeraient de la chaleur et du soleil car bien entendu même s’il faisait ‘froid’ (18 degrés) à notre départ, avant la fin de la marche 3 heures plus tard (environ 2 km de marché) il ferait 28 degrés.  Je n’ai pas de problème avec tous ces accoutrements si justifié mais on était pas en safari tout de même! Dans mon cas c’était mes quakis 3/4 et mon chandail de coton à longues manches tissé avec des mailles lousses de Eileen Fisher (juste moi pouvait savoir que ce chandail vaut bien plus de 300$, un de mes meilleurs achats, je l’ai tout le temps sur le dos) mais ce fut assez pour ne pas être prise comme membre de la bande. Je ne m’en plains pas. Ce fut tout de même une bonne sortie puisque nous avons vue, à la toute fin de la marche, l’oiseau qui avait échappé à la cherche de Don et moi il y a 5 ans : le fameux Elegant Trogon.

Et le jour 16 : elle écrit, une bonne part de ce que vous venez de lire. (après s’être fortifié avec  une superbe bannique à l’aide mon huile d’olive d’Italie, ma farine du Canada et ma confiture de fleurs de cactus de la Californie)

day one and two

Day 1 highlights: Victoria to Kalaloch State Park, site D33
Music to start the day : The Commitments vol 2
Km: 160

Easy border and ferry crossing to Port Angeles. Parking within half a block to the grocery store I was bound for (by memory!) Finding my raw milk but also a lot of wonderful products to see me off (organic nitrate and nitrite free sliced local ham, organic roast chicken, lemon and tapenade hommous great taste! etc you get the drift of the west coast vibe (so to speak) not cheap but cheaper than home and all good. (the local, raw milk was way cheaper than our organic milk for example).
Fun driving, curves, ups and downs, a patchwork of surfaces with potholes and ‘sink holes’ galore. The kind of driving that is challenging enough to keep your attention. (c’est mieux en français le macadam (? pas de dictionnaire oublie sens exact, sinon la chaussée) une véritable courte pointe avec le bord, exposé, qui s’effrite doucement. Tout en gris et noir ou les demi-lunes et les rayures, les matériaux disponibles, déterminent le patron.)
Very good nights sleep in spite of, or aided by, a very heavy rain (was my cliff hugging campsite going to hold or be washed off, I live soo dangerously).

Day 2 highlights: Kalaloch to Nehalem Bay State Park, site F1
Music to start the day : Billie Joe and Norah Foreverly (Norah Jones and Billie Joe Armstrong sing The Everly Brothers)
Km: 330

Turns out the fun driving was a warm up for today, raining in sheets, hail and very heavy winds. On the borderline of, should I stop driving, and might as well drive on as can’t do anything outside in any case. I drove on! Not many birds on the way, some raptors, Scaups, Western Grebes. Mating ritual initiated but given up. I figure the weather was even enough to discourage the grebes. (such is my life, mating rituals are confined to birds) (that was probably too much information). Into Oregon and camping near Tillamook (cheese tomorrow!).
A weird thing happened just as I drove in to the campground at 5pm. My phone rang,(which it shouldn’t as friends and family were asked to text message and I do not get many unsolicited calls, plus I was just not expecting it the way that something from your familiar world intrudes unexpectedly when you are in new environment (and concentrating on finding a camping spot in the pelting rain and hail.) In any case I choose to answer it, which is out of character, I would usually let it ring. And the strangest thing, it was my former boss who was calling to see if I was interested in a contract! I have been retired for 2 years and have no thought of work of any kind. Even gave up my volunteer work to be completely self indulgent (those who know me well know that is nearly an oxymoron). Anyways my first instinct was no way but I told him I would think about it. And then in the middle of the night (which is when I am writing this (the bottom part was written in my mildly anxious evening period, this is written in my can’t sleep might as well write period – note the style differences, the état d’esprit is evident) I started to think of how I could approach it and how it would be a worthwhile endeavor and … yesterday I saw that the group I went to Puglia with last year (and loved it, see messors.com) is having its art restoration workshop in a Chateau in France again this summer. I had dismissed it as unaffordable this year but then, if I took the contract…

But wait, if you go to the last section you will see a ‘weather as message from Don’ reference, here is another. Just as I hung up the phone , thunder and lightning! That was a new one on this day already full of weather! Was Don trying to tell me something. And now another thought (maybe I should turn off the light and go back to sleep moment) Before Don was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he was not feeling well and had been putting off signing a contract on a similar legacy project to revise a history of the Correctional Service of Canada (one of his former employers and a major part of Don’s life) He never signed the contract nor would he have been able to deliver it. Now this proposed work would be similar in that it would involve my writing of a former employer’s history. Portends and augurs vs common sense, trip money and a worthwhile legacy project. What shall it be.
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The following is dear diary, stream of consciousness stuff. Please feel free to skip. If I were a real writer I might save a few sentences or ideas but most likely would just press select and delete the whole thing but I am not so I won’t.

Nota :does the switching french to english bother you? My natural inclination would be to write exclusively in French. Please let me know if it is an issue.

Eh bien me voici. En Oregon, au parc d’état de Nehalem Bay. Aujourd’hui des très grands vents et de la pluie battante, des rafales, et en arrivant à mon camping à 17h00, du tonnerre et des éclairs. La conduite était difficile.

Not white knuckle driving – that would be foolish but certainly, 2 firm hands on the wheel. I am tall (or my vehicle is) and very glad I did not acquire the even taller and narrower Mercedes model. If this weather persists it will be inland for me as one cannot see much anyway. The wind was pushing me plus it takes more gas to ride into the wind as I was doing. (and the bridge to Astoria, in this weather, whew!)

De toute façon mon objectif est de me rendre le plus tôt possible ou il fait plus chaud. Mais je constate une chose que j’aurais dû savoir : je n’aime pas la noirceur, du moins pas dans un endroit que je ne connais pas. Au moins je ne suis pas seul dans le camping mais sur un total de 265 sites il y en a une douzaine d’occupée. En arrivant, un verre de vin s’imposait, mais comme d’habitude juste un. Là, il y a un bouillon de poulet qui cuit (j’ai acheté un demi poulet hier et je ne jette jamais mes os -au moins 3 repas avec un demi poulet). Et il y un concerto de Bach sur mon système de son (qui fonctionne heureusement !) Mais la question s’impose. Qui est-ce que j’essaie d’impressionner ? Moi, Don, vous? (en fait, parfois j’aimerais vous dire de ne pas me lire, que je le fais pour moi, mais inutile de m’en faire accroire – la beauté de ce medium est que je peux me parler tout seul ou être lu par des gens qui me connaissent, me connaissent peu, ou pas du tout et dans le fond c’est pas important d’une façon ou d’une autre. Si je me dévoile de façon peu discrète, tant pis, je n’ai rien à cacher après tout.

This trip is a test but I do not know what I need to do to pass. I guess I have been studying it in a way for nearly 3 years (3 years since Don died March 13th) and in another way I have been studying all my life. I am on my own. Do I like it? yes, I do. But yet, the darkness worries me, I make sure my doors are locked. I am somewhat anxious but by no means limited by it. Maybe that is the test, the surpassing myself (again). Ok, but there is not much fun in that. (the joy I expressed in my Italy trip last year cannot be unleashed when I am on my own. Sure I let out a whoop of joy when I started out my trip but I am not about to break into song and dance)

Certainement je veux, comme dirait Don ‘voir du pays’. En parlant de Don, ca fait longtemps que je n’avais pas eu un de ces moments de ‘contact’. Lors d’une pause après un bout de chemin assez difficile, sur le bord de la route, près de l’eau, et je demande tout haut : ‘ Eh bien Don, que penses-tu de ma conduite ? Je fais bien ça ?’ Et, voilà que le soleil apparaît, pour moins de 10 secondes, en cette journée de tempête. Comment faire autrement que de considérer un signe.

Je me sens mieux, écrire, c’est être un peu moins seul. C’est assez fendant de m’ennuyer quand même, je suis de nature solitaire et contente de ma compagnie mais après tout, je tente tout de même de faire quelque chose de jamais fait de ma vie, partir en voiture vers des terres connues et inconnues.

Enough introspection, once the sun shines, the world will be my oyster ( I did not buy any yet, drat! Drove through oyster heaven) . Not many birds, though I did see a number of raptors. I tend to make a guess at the species and then question my judgment when I check in my books. Raptors are notorious for their varied plumage throughout their growth that makes identification difficult. The campgrounds are lovely (though dark :^)) and the gas today was $1.85 for a gallon! (that is 2,6 liters!)

I have to say this writing thing is great! time flies by, nearly 8 pm, my broth should be ready soon. Should I have it with bread and cheese? Put pasta in it, or perhaps shred some of the excellent fresh corn tortillas. With my hot water on demand – best feature of my vehicle, even better than my 2 solar panels – cleaning up will be a cinch. With such mundane questions as my main preoccupation it must indicate good equilibrium so it is an opportune time to say goodnight.

Bonne Année!

pasta jour de lanTerminé l’année en faisant du pasta maison pour le souper de la veille, partagé avec mon fils. Pour ce premier jour de l’an 2016 j’écoute Lionel Richie et je vous écris (il a dit Hello bien avant Adele – je vous invite de le chercher enligne si vous ne l’avez pas.)

Ce matin il fait beau soleil à Victoria.  Il y des sitelles, des pics (2 sortes) et bien d’autres au mangeoire d’oiseaux.

Que nous réserve 2016? On peut dire que l’an passé a été marqué par bien des intempéries.  On n’est bien dû pour des bonnes choses. Mais, malgré les tragédies mondiales et personnelles il y a eu du bon qui est arrivé en 2015.  Je vous laisse le soin de choisir les tragédies et les enjeux nationaux et internationaux qu’on peut mettre dans la balance. L’accueil des réfugies n’enraye pas la problématique de base, des ententes climatiques prometteuse doivent faire leurs preuves.  J’estime que du point de vue mondial la balance penchera vers le négatif.  Je me retourne donc sur moi-même.  Quoique une autre année sans feu mon conjoint, et ça continue d’être une épreuve, il y a eu des biens beaux moments aussi, eh peut-être pas des moments de grace mais des bons moments néanmoins.  Mais à bien y penser j’en ai eu des moments de grace: lorsqu’en Italie, des fous rires, des merveilles, des rencontres, des moments de lâcher prise; et aussi dans mon nouveau ‘van’ à camper au bord de la mer, à retraverser mes belles prairies canadiennes; en passant des moments près de membres de ma famille (en personne et au téléphone); et, avec des amis anciens et nouveaux.

Peut-être que 2015 était une année charnière? Pour moi et notre pays, notre planète. Conjoncture favorable? Que de possibilités!

En vous souhaitant une année 2016 de belles surprises, de découvertes, de bons moments…

Ragout de pattes

English starts in a few lines.

J’avais commencé ce texte en français, c’est après tout la langue du ragout, mais vous avez sans doute vos propres souvenirs de ragout et votre façon de famille de le préparer.  Donc, désolée, mais par soucis de partager avec d’autres qui n’y ont jamais gouté voici en anglais le …

Ragout de pattes de cochon (et boulettes)

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The Larousse Gastronomique defines ragout as « …des préparations à base de viande, de volaille, ou de poisson, coupés en morceaux réguliers, cuites à brun ou à blanc, avec ou sans garniture de légumes. » A very broad definition, yet, talk of ragout to a french canadian and only one image comes to mind: the wonderful ragout de pattes de cochon (you would call them pork hocks, we call them what they are, pigs legs, not the same as pigs feet – that are great in my 3 pork spaghetti sauce but that is another piggy story).

 I will pause here for a little aside on the importance of porc in the french canadian diet –  pork tourtière (or pork and veal and I will not join the great tourtière debate here), ham, creton, tête en fromage ( or tête fromagée depending on where you are from, in english it is head cheese, I cheat and make mine with a pork hock), boudin, ragout, bouillie, etc ….  My mom was a city girl (lower town of Ottawa) but when country relatives butchered a pig it was her job to stir the blood dripping (pouring?) from the carcass to keep it from coagulating so they could make boudin (which I hated as a child but well made boudin is delicious.  As a child I thought of it as scab sausage – there was some truth to that but hey I love kidneys, sweetbreads, gizzards,  etc.   Give them a try at least.  I digress, so back to the ragout, in our home, when I was a teenager, it was the New Year’s meal with tourtière but when I was younger, when my mom would cook for my fathers extended family (that also is another story, but briefly I felt so sorry for her, whose birthday was the 26th, that for many years I made her an Easy-bake oven cake that I would bring her as she was doing the dishes at midnight after the Christmas meal) we had turkey, ham, tourtière, ragout.  Which is the traditional combo and always  accompanied by beets and pickles.

 I think of my mom when I cook my ragout. I still use her wooden spoon. Its round end is flattened and dark from the constant stirring required to brown the flour for this dish. The spoon also has a large indentation in its handle from being left on a stove burner – she claimed it left a perfect spot for one of her fingers to rest. My father, whose job is was to get the meat from the hocks once cooked, taught me to cheat and eat some of the small bits as a reward for this somewhat messy job. I also think of my father in law who loved my ragout.  I believe I cooked like memories of his mother.  My mother-in-law, who had lived with her mother-in-law, never made it (perhaps because she had lived so long with her mother-in-law).  My mom always made ragout but many women of her generation, the first that joined the work force en masse, were the first consumers of short-cut cooking.  In any case, my father in law, a quiet, somewhat taciturn man, obviously took pleasure in my traditional cooking. I also think of my husband, who revelled in Christmas and loved the house looking its best and smelling of sweet and savory annual treats and of my son who I believe values and will continue the traditions.

I do not follow a book recipe for my ragout and my mom never wrote it down.  I left Ottawa for Winnipeg when I was 30 and started cooking it then as I would not be sharing hers.  Though I would phone her for instructions it is not a complex recipe but… it is time consuming!

 List of ingredients:

9 pounds of pork hocks

2 pounds ground pork

1 to 2 cups of flour

2 onions

1 or two bay leaves

1 branch of celery

Nutmeg

Clove

Thyme

Sage

Poultry seasoning

Salt

Pepper

To start, it is optional, no recipe requires it and my mom did not do it but, I remove the skin from the hocks – I know, it may be sacrilegious but there is plenty of good fat and gelatin from the bones and cartilage (sounds great does it not?) and then fat from the meatballs.  You do not need the skin.  You can make cracklings out of it if you want.

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Put the cleaned hocks in a very big pot and cover with water, one or so inches over the meat – it will concentrate quite a bit over the long cooking and you want your meat to always be covered.  Add one of the onions, just cut in two or four, the celery and the bay leaf or leaves – depends on how pungent, fresh they are, you do not want the bay to be overwhelming.

After 20 to 30 minutes you will probably have some solids accumulated on top, remove with a small strainer – I use an old tea strainer, the kind that fits over a cup, maybe 2 and half inches across(?) to scoop out the solids, or you can use a slotted spoon. You can now more or less ignore this pot for 3 to 4 hours – depending on how thick your pieces were – till the meat comes off the bone. But don’t think you can go read a book or do your Christmas cards (you still do Christmas cards don’t you? Sigh, I think I am getting old!).  This is a good time for the next step: browning, or roasting your flour.  This is the most important step of the entire process!!

Some, like Martin Picard (of Montréal’s Pied de cochon – he knows a thing or two about things pig) do it the lazy way.  Picard puts 250 g of flour in a 400-degree oven that he checks and stirs every 5 minutes till it is brown.  Well, the fact that he only needs 1 cup for 12 pounds of meat tells me it does not roast appropriately.  By roasting or toasting (just like toasting your spices really) you create the flavour but also remove most of its ability to thicken the broth, I use 1 and half cups or more. It depends on how much broth you have.  (the oven method may be just fine, it is just not traditional for me.  So, as it is not part of your tradition, go ahead and use this ‘shortcut’ if you want – just make sure to check and stir every five minutes).

 What I do is put up to 2 cups (just in case it is needed) in a dry, heated cast iron pan.  With pan on low, stir, continuously, till your flour is the colour of cocoa, not brown sugar, cocoa, it takes a while – an hour or so – but it is worth it, it brings a depth of flavour that makes this dish.

 

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After your flour is browned, it is time for the meat balls (your pork hocks are still happily simmering away next to you all this time, it smells great!)

 

Finely dice the onions, put in bowl and add salt, pepper, a touch of nutmeg, a pinch of cloves, at least of teaspoon of thyme, sage and poultry seasoning (I know you already have put the same spices as you find in poultry seasoning mix in already but I do it anyways, you don’t have to if you do not have it on hand – it was just something that we always had in our kitchen).   Smell your onion and spice mixture, add more thyme and sage or spices if the smell does not call out to you.  Add the meat.  You can put an egg to help bind the meatballs but I don’t.  I like the meatballs kind of loose. Though it makes them harder to shape, it lets them get impregnated with broth and later, with the sauce.  P1070840Make meatballs, about 1 tablespoon in size (please don’t measure them – it is just important that they are not too big and that they are all more or less the same size – about 2 bites per meatball) roll them in flour, shaking off the excess.  Set aside.

By this time your hocks should be done, remove them and put them in a large plate or cookie sheet for them to cool.  Keep the broth at a simmer.

P1070843Brown your meatballs (in the pan you used for your flour – you have now added some olive oil to keep the meatballs from sticking) and when nice and firm and golden put them in the broth.  Don’t play with them – they will fall apart if you try to move or turn them before they are nicely sealed.  If they move easily when you nudge them, you can turn them and/or put them in the broth as they are ready.  They will only need 30 minutes to simmer in the broth at most. Test one after 20 minutes.  Remove them and then take some of the fat off the top – not all of it – that is where much of the flavour is concentrated!

The hocks should now be cool enough to handle so take the meat off the bone – many don’t, and serve a hock as they would a lamb shank but generally the hocks are way too big for one person and it is much easier for your guests to eat lovely morsels of meat without digging into the bones. That being said, you should make sure to remove all the meat, you will have to get in there and look everywhere between the joints, you will find many tasty bits!

Now the best part, you can strain the broth at this point but I don’t think it is necessary.  (Oh I made sure there were no little bones at the cut ends of the hocks before I cooked them – if you did not do this you might want to strain your broth (not with a tea strainer this time!).P1070848

You will do one of two things.  Either mix some broth into a small bowl of your browned flour and mix it well before returning to the rest of the broth (start with one cup of flour and add more after if sauce is not dark enough), or gradually and gently sprinkle the browned flour over the broth and whisk.  In both cases you should have a lovely dark  and smooth sauce.  Simmer for 10 minutes then add all the meat.

Reheat and simmer another 20 or 30 minutes, thereby making sure that the taste permeates the meat.

Voilà! You are done! Serve with boiled, steamed or mashed potatoes, beets (I do a raw beet salad) and pickles.

Freezes very well – you will have enough for at least 8 servings or more if you are serving with tourtière.

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le lendemain de Paris

Est-ce qu’il y a un chiffre magique? Si il y a plus de 50 morts, 75, 100? Ou est-ce une détermination géographique, de couleur, de religion, qui fait en sorte qu’on lâche tout pour une émission spéciale. (et attention j’ai moi-même passé plusieurs heures devant la tv hier) Outre les horreurs de la veille à Beyrout, il y a la suite des conflits en Syrie, il y a eu Ankara en Turquie (près de 100 morts), 6 morts au Caire au mois d’aout, au Sinaï 117 morts en juillet…

Pourquoi la distinction? Je crois qu’il y en plusieurs.

Premièrement je dois dire que ce qui est arrivé à Paris me touche la tête, le cœur et les tripes. Oui c’est viscéral. J’aime cette ville, ce pays, ses habitants – je les connais. Ces autres morts, et ces réfugiés qui arrivent, je ne dirai pas à bon port mais disons qui arrivent à s’échapper en préservant leur vies, me touche à la tête et à mon cœur mais malheureusement pas aux tripes. Je ne les reconnaîs pas.

Une autre distinction est qu’on peut être outré et montrer notre solidarité en mettant des photos et drapeaux pour appuyer Paris mais c’est tous ce qu’on va s’attendre de nous. Pas de culpabilité. On ne va pas nous demander de donner des sous ni d’ouvrir nos portes pour venir en aide aux réfugiés français – on n’a pas à poser d’autre geste.

Mais si justement on nous demandait autre chose? Bien sûr la France ne nous demandera pas d’aider avec un exode de gens en fuite mais si la France disait : voilà c’est la goutte qui fait déborder le verre et on change nos tactiques et notre engagement militaire et on en demande autant de nos alliés. Serions-nous prêts alors de dire oui, d’être solidaire au point d’engager nos forces armées à un autre niveau? Je ne sais pas.

Si je n’ai pas mis de drapeau sur mon facebook ce n’est pas parce que je manque de solidarité avec les Parisiens c’est que j’ai honte de ne pas avoir eu de geste semblable pour les autres qui ont souffert et qui souffrent encore que ce soit à cause la débâcle en moyen orient ou tout autre victimes d’injustices et de besoins (ceux d’ici et d’ailleurs)

Donc j’ai mis au lieu un drapeau qui a été proposé comme celui de la planète. Quoique pas reconnu il se veut un symbole de ce qu’on partage – de l’humanité qui nous tissent. Ah un autre mot ambivalent : Humanité c’est un ‘ Ensemble des êtres humains, considéré parfois comme un être collectif ou une entité morale’ mais c’est aussi une ‘disposition à la compréhension, à la compassion envers ses semblables, qui porte à aider ceux qui en ont besoin’, ou encore ‘un ensemble des caractères par lesquels un être vivant appartient à l’espèce humaine, ou se distingue des autres espèces animales’.

Malheureusement l’humain n’est pas toujours humanitaire.  

 

Pour voir le drapeau:”International Flag of Planet Earth” by Oskar Pernefeldt – http://www.flagofplanetearth.com. Licensed under Public Domain via Commons

Selva stats, trip trivia and food facts

Tabor, Alberta - best municipal campground - ever (On Old Man River)

Tabor Alberta – best municipal campground – ever (on Old Man River)

Who exactly is Selva?

Selva is an 18 feet  V6  Dodge Promaster converted into a camper by safaricondo.com. It has 2 solar panels, hot water on demand, a bed that is between a double and a queen (that opens at the touch of a button), 2 fridges (with independant controls),  2 burner propane stove, plenty of storage, heat from vehicules gas supply (.02 liters an hour but when I have access to electricity I use a tiny ceramic heater) a ‘cassette’ toilet (more or less a porta-potty).  The windows open out so can be open wide, there is also a pull out screen for the side door and a screen that you can velcro on if your back gate is open (let me know if you want to see it – happy to give a tour)

Since getting back home I have parked on Dallas road, Esquimalt Lagoon and on the street where I live. People are very interested. It is the ideal BC vehicule. Until you get to Alberta and BC you see few truck and camper combos nor many Westies or Eurovans. They are the choices for the west as they can bring us most places that are not accessible to bigger rigs. Plus our concerns with gaz guzzlers (needed to support the camper) and our need for comfort (and a bit more space, oh and reliability) as we age mean that those two choices are not completely satisfactory. Therefore, my little camper-van, that can easily serve as only vehicule, I have sold my lovely Ford Escape, is ideal.

Trip trivia, bringing Selva home

5 525km, longest day was 630 km

Routes taken, 6 provinces:

Québec, 20 to Montréal, then 30 (stops, St-Nicolas – home of Selva, stayed in nearby Koa to test all systems)

Ontario, 30, 5, 10, trans Canada (stops, Brockville (friend), Ottawa (family, actually stayed in parking lot at parent’s care home), Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park (Mattawa), Pancake Bay Provincial Park, Neys (provincial park closed, stayed at private park next door), Davy Lake (Ignace) Ontario is HUGE

Manitoba, trans-Canada, 2 (Ste-Anne with family)

Saskatchewan, 2 becomes 13, 37, trans-Canada (Pangman -on the street)

Alberta, 3 (Taber municipal park – see photo above)

BC 3, 5, 10, 17. ( Jaffray – Will-o-bend RV, Christina Lake – Cascade Cove, Manning Provincial Park)

favorite part of the road – no contest: 13 in Saskatchewan, in particular between Weyburn and Gull Lake (slept on the side of the road, beneath a grain elevator in Pangman, Sask. free, yet priceless)

Will have to go back for many friends missed on the way.

Why the ‘hurry’? BC does not, as opposed to most other provinces, provide you with your licence plates before you leave – because they need to inspect your vehicule, even if it is brand new. So I crossed the country on temporary transit permits. I had to do much research before leaving.  Once in BC I was only able to have one day permits! as, God forbid, I would do any sightseeing on my way across the country.  Trust me you do not want the whole story – if you do let me know.

Most beautiful campsite: Pancake Bay Provincial Park

Campsite least likely to return to in foreseeable future: Pancake Bay Why? 57$ a night for a provincial park – 0 services

Many provincial parks already closed – check ahead when travelling on the fall.  BC has most year-round camping (yeah!)

Food on the road – camping in style – must haves if you are going by…

Québec (ville de) : Marché du vieux port, must get cuisses de pintades confites (confit of guinea fowl legs), foie gras d’oie (only supplier of goose, as opposed to duck, liver), ice cider, charcuterie etc (the only thing I did not get there was bread as good as our very own Fol epi)

Northern Ontario: Campers store at Pancake Bay (Agawa trading post) near Batchawana Bay, excellent smoked trout

(if you are looking for trading post for native arts and crafts that are not mass produced wait till Upsala Ontario  (The Beaver Post) – they have the ubiquitous stuff but some very good local things as well. I got a bead and deer skin purse that is quite unique (my own trip addiction – every trip = a new purse – at least – I got 2 in Italy but hey it was Italy!) . In addition, the ballet slipper style mocassins that I really like (and can be found in Victoria at the Cowichan Trading Company on Government) are less expensive there)

Eglis sheep farm (Minnitaki, Ontario, between Dryden and Vermilion Bay) were you can not get lamb meat (due to bizarre butchering rules) but  you can get excellent elk

Winnipeg, Forks Market: Tall Grass Prairie Bread Company

New Bothwell, Manitoba – of course for cheese

Osoyoos and Keremeos BC for  fruit and veggie stands (oh and wine there and in between)

Mom et dad

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Ma mère (88) et mon père (90) lors de mon passage à Ottawa il y a quelques semaines.  Ma mère souffre de démence mais elle n’a pas oublié comment lire la musique. (elle a enseigné le piano quelques temps lorsqu’elle était très jeune)

I really wanted to share my new camping vehicle with my parents.  I started camping with them when I was 6 (in a rented tent trailer) and then when I was 7 we bought our own beautiful tent trailer and the family drove to Banff.  This was 1965 – not that many campgrounds around!

photos!

This morning: I heard the screech of the eagles, had to wait for deers to go by so I could open my van door (three of them were 2 feet from my door). It must mean… yes – I am back home in Victoria.

So here are belated trip photos

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First night camping . Had to start by emptying the 4 boxes of camping gear I had mailed ahead

First night camping . Had to start by emptying the 4 boxes of camping gear I had mailed ahead

First meal - yes that is foie gras of goose

First meal – yes that is foie gras of goose

Important gear

Important gear

Confit de pintade etc. Je quittais Québec , je suis passée par le marché du vieux port

Confit de pintade etc. Je quittais Québec , je suis passée par le marché du vieux port

Troubling sign

Troubling sign

Murphy's point near Ottawa

Murphy’s point near Ottawa

Pancake Bay

Pancake Bay

Photo bombing Sudbury goose. Was first there 50 years ago. It will be taken down this fall after being photographed cor 55 years

Photo bombing Wawa goose (thank you Cheryl). Was first there 50 years ago. It will be taken down this fall after being photographed for 55 years

Comme dans Astérix en hispanie je me réveille pour être entouré de roulotte 'maison'

Comme dans Astérix en hispanie je me réveille pour être entouré de roulotte ‘maison’

Camping on the side of the road

Camping on the side of the road

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My beautiful prairies!

My beautiful prairies!

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B.C.

B.C.

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chilling with my grey jay friends

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Brief thoughts

The need to share things – for them to be real? To remember them? To not feel so alone? To leave a mark?

One of the  2 solo travellers I shared an evening with at Pancake Bay provincial park wondered if all solo travellers kept journals as the three of us did. (as an aside the two solo travellers were put in my path one, as a sign that I will not always be alone if I choose to interact with people and 2 that not all men are possible predators that I need to be leery of – as an aside to my aside I wonder what is worst, to be a woman scared of men who might harm me or to be a man and know that woman are scared of me – I actually think the second is worst as the first is caution, the second guilt by association.

Pas de moments de grace encore, mais des moments de bien-être et de fierté en ma compétence.